I Confess

I confess

That I have willfully in my true senses engaged in some fun with the other kids in the neighborhood, without realizing that I was playing with fire. How mean of the big boys who never for one moment appraised me on the pitfalls or the side effects. How was I to know that one who digs grave for others might fall into it himself, because I have not been able to refurbish my letters or sentences due to lack of continued education, not that it wasn’t available; but there was no real push from home.

The idea of a prosperous life did not appeal to me or my parents, since there were many of my kind than, what could be controlled by the ideals of an old man who himself hasn’t been inside the brick walls of a school on many occasions.

I confess that I am not a bad boy, just taken in by the tales of heroism and the picture that is painted of my kind in the national media. It gives me a kick and I feel the unseen adulation that pours out from certain people and parties. I almost concede that I feel like a national hero who has just returned from war after inflicting a humiliating defeat on the enemy.

I know you won’t believe this, but I get a high from seeing the supposed enemy standing listless and ineffective not far from me. In fact many a time I see them retreating as if afraid of me and my missiles. It energizes me to see the protectors of the law scurrying for cover from my home made and often crude missiles.

I confess to seeing many of my friends indulging in this act of vandalism as if mandated by the law. I almost feel as if I have ploughed through a hard day’s work in the factories or offices. The feeling of exhaustion and phew! the feeling of satisfaction allows me a good night’s sleep. I know that the next day’s headlines in all newspapers will be describing my acts of heroism and those of my friends and I know that I have been able to capture prime space through this mechanical act of aggression.

I confess that I never thought that I would be scarred or hurt in my search for thrills. I never thought that I would land up behind bars, because the big boys always seemed to elude the long arm of the law. I even have seen private medics attend to my other friends. Only this time, I got hurt myself and the mask of invincibility flew off leaving me literally licking my wounds. The Big boys were nowhere to be seen. I found myself in a dinghy of a cell talking to myself.

Thank god the democracy that I so vehemently despise allowed me to have a defense. But I was dismayed by the untruth that the defense said about the circumstances related to my injury. I felt bad, the shroud of heroism felt like being pulled away, I could feel a sense of helplessness; the signs of a loser or of someone caught telling a lie.

I suddenly realized that life would have been better if I had followed the paths of non violence so profusely followed by the often frail looking man of immense moral character the Mahatma, the viciously deceptive and forbearing of a prisoner in solitary confinement for many years now revered by countries, Nelson Mandela or personally for me the pulchritude of a lady Aung San Suu Kyi. It took them years of peaceful struggle to shake off their detractors.

I confess I for once thought I had cracked the code to shortcut and was on the verge of patenting it.

I confess my lord, my defense is lying, I confess……………….I confess………….

By: Robin Varghese- mail to: robin_vargh@yahoo.com

(Inspiration for this article comes out of the unrest in Bahrain where many protesters and policemen are maimed and business sentiment wavers. A young protestor gets burned while attempting to throw a movotail at the policeman. Naturally his defense springs to his aid in court, but he brushes his defense aside and admits that he was vandalizing)

This article appeared in the Daily Tribune of 5^th November 2012